


just wrong enough to make it feel right

by thelilacfield



Series: there is no world where i am not yours [19]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Forbidden Love, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27982287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: “This is Vision. He is my personal guard. And he will be yours, my lady, whenever you ask.”She thought that coming to the kingdom would be the end of all her troubles. Marrying a king would be her happy ever after. And yet, as Vision steps forward and shyly bows to her, she can’t help thinking that troubles are only just beginning with the way her heart flutters when those blue eyes meet hers.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: there is no world where i am not yours [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859725
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	just wrong enough to make it feel right

**A/N:** AU-dvent day 9! Based in the arranged marriage prompt from AU-gust, but it's not Vision Wanda is marrying. Fun!

I'm on Tumblr and Twitter **@mximoffromanoff** if anybody wants to chat about all things scarletvision! Enjoy, and please let me know with a comment if you do :)

 **warning:** **infidelity. it is to an arranged marriage, and I don't know how much that bothers people, but I'm warning regardless.**

* * *

She cranes out of the window of the carriage to look out at the palace. It soars bright against the sky with its pale walls, the gardens sprawling gilded in the sunlight, and she tucks her fingers over the chain of the delicate sapphire necklace her betrothed sent her before she left for his palace. Her heart is fluttering in anticipation and she can't help fidgeting with the skirt of her dress. It's a light spring green, her skirt sweeping in a full circle from her waist, the boning of her corset keeping her sitting straight. She is perfect, glowing and gorgeous, ready to meet her betrothed.

The kingdom has assembled to greet her, her golden carriage rattling over the cobblestones, young children waving the pale blue flags holding the kingdom's crest, and she waves to them, her usual gentle smile gracing her face. They're admiring her, her hair braided with gold and her dress frothing like ocean waves around her legs, their eyes aglow with happiness for their future queen, and she turns back to look at the streets behind her as they reach the palace gates. Her new home.

When the gold curlicues open to her, she takes a deep breath and leaves her life behind. She won't see her family until the wedding now, her brother and his bride engaged in their transition to the throne. Now she is King Samuel's betrothed, a month until their wedding, and the knights of the castle are raising their swords in a salute to her carriage, a young man darting forward to offer her his hand and help her untangle her skirts and descend the three short steps.

Her betrothed is the same charming man she met when she was sixteen, at the official ceremony that decreed they would be married five years from that date. Though he was crowned after his father's death when he was eighteen, King Samuel is not so different from the prince she met. His smile is still bright, his dark eyes dancing with mirth, and he steps out of the crowds to take her hand in his and bow to kiss her fingers. "My lady," he breathes against her skin, and she dips into a curtsey.

"Your Majesty," she says softly, and he just grins.

"We are engaged, princess, there's no need for such titles," he says, and takes her hand, slowly twirling her to admire her gown. "Quite the seamstress you have in the mountains."

"Well, it is a special occasion," she says, and he laughs, his arm wrapping around her waist, hand curving over the silk of her dress. In her mind, she can almost hear the ancient castle seamstress snapping at her for crumpling the material, but her old life fades away to shadows in the sunlight of the kingdom, the smiling castle staff.

"I have a few members of staff who wanted to meet you, princess," Samuel says, and a man dressed all in black is eyeing her suspiciously. "This is my chief advisor, James. He will be organising your coronation as my queen after we're married."

"A pleasure, Your Highness," James says, dipping his head in a polite bow, and she smiles slightly. Maybe the nerves that she's tried so hard to repress are beginning to get to her, and she would much rather be inside the palace, familiarising herself with her new home. Not out in the sun with so many eyes on her, sweating beneath her silks and corset.

And then Samuel turns her to another man, and everything in the golden world stills. A knight, dressed simply in a tunic the same pale blue of the kingdom's flag, his eyes an even more stunning shade of blue, like the most beautiful part of the ocean. His golden hair falling forward, and a shy smile on his face that goes straight to Wanda's heart. "This is Vision," Samuel says. "He is my personal guard. And he will be yours, my lady, whenever you ask."

She thought that coming to the kingdom would be the end of all her troubles. Marrying a king would be her happy ever after. And yet, as Vision steps forward and shyly bows to her, she can't help thinking that troubles are only just beginning with the way her heart flutters when those blue eyes meet hers.

* * *

Wanda frantically throws herself into wedding planning, though she can recognise that the staff of the palace are trying to put her off, to allow the royal wedding planner to do their job and make it perfect without their princess having to lift so much as a finger. But she needs the distraction from her temptation to ask Vision to take walks with her, take her into the city, find reasons to be alone with him. She's engaged to a king, marrying him in a few short weeks, and she cannot allow herself to fall for anyone else.

But Vision seems to find himself in her space. He is never far from Samuel's side, always in the pale blues and whites and golds of the kingdom's colour scheme, and she can never keep her eyes off him. He is so soft-spoken, so handsome, and so respectful to her that her heart can't help but flutter at the mere mention of his name. Every dress is for him, her entire wardrobe bright with the jewelled hues of the mountains and the pastels of the ocean alike.

A festival is arranged to mark three weeks until the wedding, the castle grounds filled with tents and booths, merchants from across the land calling out to her. The air is perfumed with sugar, children running around squealing and laughing, and Samuel has an arm around her, Vision three steps behind them, a shadow she can't take her eyes off. "Nebula!" Samuel calls out, and a lovely redhead lifts her head behind one of the booths, intricately decorated cakes set out in front of her. "How is business, my sweet?"

"Better since you made us the official dessert artists of your wedding, Majesty," the redhead says, and turns a coolly curious gaze on Wanda. "The fiancée, I assume?"

"It's lovely to meet you," Wanda says, the sweetness that was taught to her from the moment she can remember in her voice.

"Nebula and her wife own a bakery in the town," Samuel says as they leave, a cupcake in her hand topped with an intricately-created icing flower, the same red as her favourite gown. "They will be making our wedding cake. I have tried to have as many businesses in the town involved in our wedding as possible."

"You are good to your people, King Samuel," she says, and he shakes his head, pinching her cheek.

"It's Sam, Wanda, just Sam," he says, and she nods slightly, her cheeks colouring. "They've been good to me. They accepted me with open arms when my father died, and allowed me the time to mourn before I could make any real change to our beautiful kingdom. I hope that they consider me a good king."

"No one could be better than you, my lord," Vision says softly, and Sam grins at his guard. Vision eyes catch Wanda's just for a moment, and she looks away, her cheeks flaming a brighter pink.

Sunlight is beating heavily down on the day, and Wanda is sweating beneath her lilac skirts when they climb into the royal booth for the jousting competition, watching the arena far below them and the stableboys soothing horses pawing at the hay-strewn ground. A fan is pressed into her hand, and she turns to bequeath a grateful smile on Lily, Sam's precocious younger sister. "My handmaiden said it was unacceptable to refuse to wear a corset to an official occasion," she whispers, and Wanda giggles. "I have half a mind to break the damned thing."

" _Lily_ ," the queen mother warns, elegant in her dark blue gown, seemingly unaffected by the heat of the day. "Please, darling, Princess Wanda is your brother's betrothed. Try not to drag her into your mischief."

"You're no fun," Lily pouts, and Wanda smiles down at her lap. The royal family are all so kind, so gentle with her as she grows used to the kingdom, always laughing and smiling. She could grow used to being a part of their family.

The jousting competition begins with the triumphant call of a hunting horn, and she is nestled into Sam's side, seeing the sun reflect in the admiring eyes of the kingdom's twisting to look up at their king and his future queen. It makes her self-conscious, being stared at so, and she fidgets to adjust the petals of her skirt, crossing her legs neatly at the ankle and fluttering her fan to hide her face. Sam's hand finds hers, squeezing gently, and he kisses her cheek and whispers, "Don't worry about them looking. They're only admiring your beauty."

"We are already engaged, there's no need to flatter me," she says, and he chuckles, low in her ear. And she wishes it was him that was drawing the reaction from her, and not seeing Vision's hair gleam in the sunlight before he dons his helmet and mounts his horse, a lovely chestnut mare whose fur glows almost red under the sun.

"Forgive me for trying to woo my future wife," he says, and she giggles, leaning into him. Maybe if she lets it happen, the infatuation with Vision will fade away, and she can fall happily in love with her future husband.

But she startles to her feet in horror when the lance of the other knight knocks Vision sprawling from his horse, and before she has thought of how it may look she's running from the stands, pushing her way into the arena even as servants urge, "No, my lady, it's not safe!"

The other knight has slid from his horse, removing his helmet, his young face ashen with fear. Vision's horse is bucking and snorting, and Wanda moves towards her, one hand held out palm-first. "It's alright," she says softly, her voice warm and gentle. "It's alright." Slowly, the mare's nose fits into the curve of her palm, and she catches the reins before the poor girl can get her delicate legs tangled in them, whispering, "Good girl."

"Is he alright?" the young knight asks, and Wanda's attention returns to Vision lying on the ground as a stableboy rushes to retrieve the terrified mare. "Did I hurt him?"

Despite her delicate skirts and their light colour on the churned-up ground, Wanda kneels down to Vision's side. His helmet was knocked off in the fall, and she lightly touches a graze on his forehead, almost hidden by his hair. He's beautiful, his skin gold with the sun and smooth beneath her fingers, and when his eyes blink open and find hers the world falls away. It is just the two of them for a moment, caught on the precipice of something wonderful. "Are you alright?" she asks softly, and one of his gloved hands reaches up to touch her face.

"My lady," he whispers, and then there are footsteps behind her, and Sam is kneeling behind her, his hand at the small of her back, and Vision's hand falls from her cheek as fast as it appeared, leaving behind only five pinpricks of heat when his fingers brushed.

"Quite the fall there, big guy," Sam says, and clasps Vision's forearm in his to haul him to his feet. And he looks at Wanda and says, "I didn't know you were so good with horses, my lady."

"I am not some delicate princess only skilled in embroidery and piano," she says, and Sam laughs.

"Remind me to take you riding on the beach one of these days," he says, and she nods and smiles and plays the part of the king's devoted betrothed. The kingdom cheers when Vision gets back on his horse, and she stands by the wall now, close enough to see him run a reassuring hand through his horse's mane and whisper something in her twitching ear.

Sam attends to the closing of the festival, but she goes to the stables. The familiar smell prickles her eyes, makes her long momentarily for home, for racing horses around the grounds with Pietro, the stream in the woodlands where they always paused to allow their horses a drink, the mountain climb they took on their eighteenth birthday as night fell. A silvery horse that reminds her of Pietro's turns their mournful face towards her, and she reaches up to stroke his snout, smiling slightly.

" _Oh_...Princess, I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt!" She turns and finds Vision blushing at the sight of her, his horse tucked back behind her door, a sponge and bucket in his hands. "I was just..."

"She's a beautiful horse," Wanda says, and he smiles. "What's her name?"

"Cassandra," he says, and his horse whickers happily in recognition. "I named her for my mother. We've been together since I first became a lowly wall guard at this palace. And, of course, being the king's personal guard, I don't ride her as much now. I take any opportunity."

"Perhaps jousting with the inexperienced is not the occasion to choose," she says, and he ducks his head bashfully. "You could've given that poor young knight a heart attack. He thought you were hurt."

"Only a few bruises and grazes, my lady," he says, and her eyes dart to the scrape on his forehead. Someone has patched him up since the showing ended, a bandage white against his gilded skin, and her mouth is dry looking at him, the lean length of him in his riding clothes, armour discarded. The shirt is tight enough for her to see the shape of his arms, and she wonders how they would feel around her, how that hand that so briefly touched her cheek would splay over the small of her back.

"I could never abide jousting," she says. "My brother broke an arm doing it when we were sixteen. It took him months to recover, and yet he was back on his horse as soon as the healer allowed it."

"Oh, I only joust in tournaments, my lady," he says, and shudders slightly. "I do not have the taste for violence."

"Strange quality in a knight," she observes, and he flushes. "I like that about you. You seem gentle."

"I should thank you, my lady," he says, and his eyes find hers. "You did not need to be the one to enter the arena and soothe my horse and check that I had not been hurt. You could have been hurt."

"I wanted to know you were alright," she says, and unthinkingly takes a step closer to him. He smells of fresh, sweet hay, drenched in sunlight, the sunset shining pink and gold beyond the stable windows, and her gaze finds his plush lips. " You...didn't open your eyes for...a long while."

"I must apologise for behaving inappropriately, my lady," he says, averting his gaze suddenly from hers. "I should not have touched your face. I was simply...grateful."

"Grateful?" she asks, arching an eyebrow. "I was not aware that tenderly touching my face was the kingdom's way of saying thank you." She steps closer to him, her skirts rustling, putting them on the cliff's edge as she reaches up and takes her face between her hands.

"My lady-"

"I'm just thanking you for thanking me," she says softly, and strokes her thumbs over his cheekbones. And his eyes find hers, his pupils dark and shining in the relative gloom of the stables, and his head turns beneath her hands for his lips to brush her palm, sending a bolt of desperate heat through her. "Vision-"

"Wanda," he breathes, and her name on his lips makes her heart stop before it speeds up painfully, "we _can't_. Your betrothed is my lord, my _king_ , he has given me everything, I cannot...I _will_ not betray him like this."

"I care for him too," she says softly. "Sam has been nothing but kind to me. But he...he doesn't make me feel like this."

"Like what?" he asks, clearly curious despite himself, and his face is still cradled in her hands despite his protests, he's still sharing breath with her, their faces so close it would be nothing to fall over the edge of the cliff with him.

"Like I want you to kiss me more than I have ever wanted anything else," she breathes, not daring to raise her voice and break the spell. His gaze falls to her mouth, lingers long enough to send fireworks fizzling through her, and she's trembling beneath his eyes. "Vision, please. I was told you would be mine, whenever I asked."

"I can't do this, my lady," he says, and she shakes her head. "You should go. I'm sorry that I...do not have control of myself."

"Lose control with me," she whispers, and everything in her sings in triumph when his lips finally, _finally_ , collide with hers.

Her hands moves from his cheeks to tangle around the back of his neck, his fingers curling around her waist, digging into her skin through her silks and corset. His lips are warm and plush and soft against hers, everything compared to the perfunctory kisses she has shared with Sam at ceremonial occasions. She is bright as a star, everything in her aches for more, and when he tears his mouth away a sound escapes her lips that is so wanton she blushes.

"We cannot do this," he says, and his hands have vanished from her waist, he's moving away from her, and her lips are still tingling with the shadow of his kiss. "You know this is wrong."

"I know," she says. "But doesn't it feel _right_." She takes a step towards him, and he's looking at her again. Like she's something perfect. "Please. Tell me you feel it too."

"My lady, I have felt this since I first saw you step down from your carriage," he says, and she smiles up at him, feeling herself light up. "But...we _shouldn't_. You are about to be wed to my _king_. This...this is _treason_!"

"Not if no one finds out," she says, and glances around them. There is no one stirring, the noise all still concentrated in the front grounds of the palace, and she pulls him down into another kiss. Another touch of his lips to hers, his fingers bunching in her silk skirts, her hand tangling in his soft golden hair.

The beauty of the sunset spilling into the sea has nothing on the beauty of that forbidden kiss.

* * *

"I was so thrilled when the king contracted me to make your wedding dress, Your Highness," the seamstress gushes, her dark hair tied up as she moves around Wanda, adjusting the layers and layers of material that make up the beginnings of her wedding dress. "And there could be no more beautiful model than you."

"Thank you," she says softly, and stares at herself in the mirror. The bodice of her dress is finished, her waist narrowed by her corset, the low neckline layered in tulle that sparkles with subtle gold thread. Her hair is falling dark over her bare shoulders, one of the diamond necklaces from the palace collection around her neck to add to the effect, and the thought that in two weeks she will be a bride is leaving her head spinning.

There's a soft knock at the door, and when she turns around again Vision is in the doorway. And whatever words she was about to say die on her lips at the way he's looking at her, the deer caught in headlights, a softening around his mouth. She's wearing her wedding dress and staring at the man she's been sneaking away to be with in the darkest corners of the castle, and he's looking at like she's the very sun itself.

"Sir Shade," the seamstress says pointedly, and Vision seems to shake himself out of a trance. "What do you want?"

"Apologies for the interruption," he says, and his eyes are still lying heavy on Wanda, his gaze sending sparks of want across her skin. "The princess is needed in the kitchens. They wish to discuss the menu for the ball next week."

"I thought I made it clear I needed uninterrupted time with Her Highness tonight," the seamstress says, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Allow me time to remove the dress, it cannot be damaged. I will finish the embroidery in my studio."

"It's a beautiful dress," Vision says, and the seamstress preens. "Your talent is incomparable."

"Thank you, sir," she says, and he closes the door. But there's a promise in his eyes, and Wanda is impatient and squirming being laced back into her day dress, a simple green dress that almost matches her eyes. The jewels are taken back, and she runs a hand through her hair before she slides the door open and finds Vision waiting for her.

"I finalised the menu with the kitchen staff yesterday," she says, and he just smiles slightly.

"Follow me," he says softly, and takes her hand. Her skirt flutters behind them as he pulls her down a secret staircase, the stone cold beneath the thin soles of her shoes, and there's a helpless smile on her lips following him out into the warmth of the summer evening, the colourful sprawl of the palace gardens.

"Where are you taking me?" she asks, and he just smiles and puts a finger to his lip, leading her to the very bottom of the gardens, the edge of a cliff that spills away from the carefully maintained emerald grass to craggy white rock. "Vision-"

"Be careful, these stairs are steep," he says, and opens a small, rusty gate onto a staircase carved into the side of the cliff. Her fingers dig into his in fear, and he pulls her closer, on the step below her so their eyes are at the same height. "I won't let any harm come to you, my lady."

She would kiss him, but she fears that if they become distracted they'll both topple off the cliff. So she settles for a smile and following him until her feet find the softness of the sand, and she pulls off her shoes and tosses them aside. Vision is smiling at her, his arm sliding around her and a kiss brushed against her hair when she takes in the tiny set up of the picnic in front of her, a bottle of wine sparkling in the starlight.

"This is what you wanted me for?" she asks, and he nods. "This is so sweet, Vision, but you don't have to-"

"I see the way you look at the ocean," he says softly, and she's silenced by his gentle smile. "And there are so many people in the palace now. This is the easiest place for us to be alone."

"Unless you came tossing rocks at my window," she says, and he shakes his head. "I'm sure you could climb up that wall. If you truly wanted to."

"We would be only a wall away from people who would be horrified to see us together," he says, and the shadow of how wrong their secret is falls across his face. "You know we have to be careful, Wanda."

"I know," she says sadly, and reaches up to touch his face, curve her fingers to his warm, smooth skin. "I know what I'm asking you to risk for me. I wish-"

"I know," he breathes, and kisses her. Moonlight swirls around them, the heat of the night and the whispers of the ocean meeting the sand, and when he breaks away he presses their foreheads together, his hand at her hip clutching her skirts. "I dream about another way we might have met. A way where we could be together without having to hide it."

"Maybe a world where I'm not a princess," she says, and he nods. "Let's pretend for tonight."

"What?" he asks, and she smiles, pulling him down onto the sand with her and reaching for the wine glasses stood side by side.

"Pretend with me," she says. "I'm not getting married to a king. I'm just a girl from the town. And you were out riding one day, and saw me. I took your breath away."

"Is that so?" he asks, a quirk of amusement at the corner of his mouth, and she nods, a sweet smile on her lips.

"And you asked me to get a drink, and everything was right the moment our hands touched," she says, and links their fingers together. "We're meant for each other."

"You are marrying my king in two weeks-"

"Shush," she breathes, and draws his lips to her in a brief kiss. "Don't."

"We can't forget about it-"

"Just be with me in the here and now," she urges, and he finally relents. He leans down and kisses her, and the bottle of wine spills into the sand when he pulls her on top of him, his heart pounding so hard she can feel the beat through her corset.

Tangled up with a man who stirs her heart the way he does in the moonlight, she can forget that there is a tragic end in sight to this relationship. That she must lay aside her heart, and do as duty demands.

* * *

She is already dressed for the ball to celebrate the eve of her wedding, in a red gown that clings to her breasts and waist before it sweeps out into a showstopping skirt. Her bare shoulders sparkle with some golden powder, her hair in piled up curls that spill down over the low-cut back of her dress, and her brother is running across the reception room to her, scooping her into his arms so enthusiastically that one of her shoes falls to the marble with an almighty clatter.

"Put me _down_!" she protests, batting at him until he lets go, and he's beaming a mile wide, surveying her dress.

"Very bridal," he says, and Crystal laughs, sliding her hand into her husband's elbow. She is radiant in a silver dress, red hair piled atop her head, and Wanda warms to be with her brother and sister-in-law again. It has been almost a month since she bid them goodbye, left them to the kingdom alone, but it feels a lifetime.

"Are you excited for tomorrow?" Crystal asks, and Wanda nods once, not trusting herself to speak. Her traitorous eyes have not stopped searching for Vision at the corners of the room, and her heart sinks a little further every time she can't see him. "Well, don't look too happy, now."

"Wedding planning is exhausting," she says, a lame excuse even to her own ears.

"I did warn you, didn't I?" Pietro asks, and she rolls her eyes at her brother. "Where is my future brother-in-law, anyway?"

"You must be the legendary King Pietro," Sam says, emerging as if from nowhere to brush a kiss to Wanda's cheek and bow to her brother. "And this utter beauty must be your wife. Such a beautiful dress, Queen Crystal."

"So you are the king making my little sister into a queen," Pietro says, his face turning haughty, and Wanda rolls her eyes.

"Hackles down, brother," she says, and takes Sam's hand. "Come on. Let's dance before he gets any opportunity to interrogate your credentials."

Her fiancé laughs, and his hand fits so perfectly to her waist as they swirl around the ballroom, at the centre of everyone's attention. Her skirts swirl and flash with embroidery, and Sam's smile rests on her so affectionately, and for a moment the music spins her away and she imagines that it's Vision she's dancing with, his broad shoulders beneath her hands. She wants to dance with him for all the world to see and watch the people smile when they kiss the way people do when Sam's lips softly brush hers.

As Sam twirls her, she catches a glimpse of a golden head disappearing through the door at the side of the ballroom, and she staggers, tripping over the hem of her gown. Sam catches her and straightens her up, frowning at her. "Are you alright, my lady?"

"A little faint," she whispers, and concern blooms like a midnight flower on his face. "Just...allow me five minutes to myself. I don't need company. Enjoy your party."

" _Our_ party," he corrects, and she smiles tightly before she untangles herself from him and crosses the ballroom to push through the door that swung closed behind Vision.

She finds him in the gardens, far from the light and laughter spilling from the ball. He's looking up at the stars, his sword gleaming at his side, his pale tunic turned to silver in the light, and she moves towards him slowly, her skirts rustling on the grass. "I wanted to ask you for a dance," she says softly, and his head whips to face her.

And to her horror, there are tears in his eyes. Sparkling like stars fallen from the sky, and she rushes to him, taking his face between her hands. "I can't be in there," he says. "I'm sorry, Wanda. I thought...I thought I was strong enough for this. I thought I knew that this was coming and it would make it easier. But I can't do this."

"Do what?" she asks, and he shakes his head. "Vision, _please_. Be honest with me."

"I can't be at that ball," he says, gesturing vaguely to the sound of music. "I can't watch you with my king. I can't watch you two dance and smile at each other and listen to everyone say what a beautiful couple you are. I can't listen to people say that we'll have an heir within the year, that they can't wait to see you as their queen. I thought I could do this, but I can't." He sighs and says, "I'm leaving the palace. I'm resigning as His Majesty's personal guard. I'm going to seek employment elsewhere. There are dozens of royals here tonight who may be in need of another guard."

"But...how will I see you?" she asks, desperation weaving through her words, and when he blinks at her a tear spills down his cheek, reflecting silver on his skin. "Vision...stay."

"I cannot, my lady," he says. "I cannot watch you become his wife, his queen. It's tearing me apart."

"Vision-"

He kisses her then, a wildfire of a kiss. Like something in him has snapped, restrained emotion all exploding out of him at once, his lips bruising hers and his hands wrapped around her, pulling her body into his. And she melts against him and returns his fervour, tangling her hands in his hair, gasping when his tongue brushes her lips and letting him in. He tears out of the kiss as quickly as he entered it, and he falls to his knees in front of her, resting his head against her hip, and her hand lands on the back of his head, fingers running over the softness of his hair. "I love you, Wanda," he says, and the soft words echo on and on in the night. "I cannot watch you become another man's wife. I cannot serve you while you cannot be mine."

"Perhaps...we could continue our affair even once I'm married-"

"I have betrayed my king enough already," he says, and lifts his face to hers. On the ground before her, helpless at her feet. "I love you, and it is ruining me. I will not ruin you."

He gets to his feet and makes to walk away. But she grabs for his wrist and turns him back to her, and breathes, "What if I want you to ruin me?"

"Wanda-"

"Find some excuse," she says. "Come to my rooms after the ball is ended. I'll wait for you."

"We can't...if my king knows he is not your first-"

"Sam is kind, he would never hurt me," she says. "My brother and his wife were not each other's first, and the world did not burn because of that. Please, Vision. If you are to leave me, let us be together first. In every way we can."

From the look in his eyes when she walks away, she doubts he'll come. But once the ball is ended, once the candles have been snuffed out, once Sam has walked her to her rooms and kissed her once with a soft, "See you in the morning, princess," she sits and waits in her dress.

Almost in tandem with the chime of midnight, there's a knock at her door. She opens it to Vision, still in his pale blue tunic, perfect in the moonlight. She can't light a candle for risk of a servant coming to check on her, and she turns to offer him the laces of her dress in silence. His gentle fingers pull at the ribbons, and when her gown pools around her bare feet she turns to face him, reaching up to take the pin from hair and let the carefully crafted curls spiral around her shoulders.

"You cannot take this back once it is done," Vision says softly, and she nods. "What if you become pregnant?"

"I don't care," she says, her eyes on his lips, on the shape of his arms beneath his clothes. "I want to be with you. This is as much as we can have."

He initiates the first kiss. By the time they part, her hands are beneath his tunic, his skin warm beneath her exploring fingers, and she peels it from him. He's perfect in the moonlight, long and lean, and he's reaching for the stays of her corset, unwrapping it from around her and staring for a long moment at her bared breasts.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, voice rough and raw, and the next kiss is more passionate, a fire roaring between them. When he touches her in places only she has ever touched, she keens his name, and it seems to set something off in him. He tugs at her petticoats, baring her completely, and she tangles her legs around him as he sweeps her across the room and plants her on their bed, their eager fingers clumsily colliding in reaching for the laces of his breeches.

When she has him naked and on top of her, the first time she has even been so with a man, she can only stare. He's perfect, and breathless, and staring at her as intensely as she's staring at him. "I love you," she says, and the shy smile that breaks out across his face makes her ache. "I didn't say it earlier. But I love you. I do."

"I love you too," he whispers, and then he kisses her. Their bodies press together and she whimpers his name when he enters her, clutching at him. Discomfort gives way to pleasure, to gasps of his name leaving her parted lips, and her name like a prayer in his perfect voice.

He makes love to her so slowly, and when she breaks it's unexpected, in a soft cry of his name and her nails digging into his back. His eyes find hers, and he kisses her so frantically, breathing her name like gold onto her lips as he spills inside her. And they don't stop kissing for what feels like forever, slick with sweat in each other's arms.

* * *

Wanda's wedding day dawns bright and beautiful, and her bed is empty. Vision slipped out some time in the night, after holding her until she fell asleep, and she sits up already trying not to cry. She should be thrilled. She is about to wed a king, become a queen, wear a beautiful dress and make eternal vows to a man who is kind to her. But she cannot force herself to feel any semblance of joy when she knows she loses the man she loves after the ceremony.

The seamstress dresses her in her finished gown. The entire affair is silent, until she is adjusting the neckline and her eyebrows rise. "Princess?" she asks, and Wanda looks up at her dully. "You, ah...there is a bruise on your neck."

She immediately slaps a hand up to cover it, and the seamstress smirks. "I have powders that will cover that, dear," she says, and continues to adjust the wide skirts of her dress. "I would not begrudge a princess enjoying her handsome betrothed before their wedding day."

Once she is dressed, she is left to take in the decorations of the palace. The sun has come out her brightest for the wedding, shining on the golden embroidery of Wanda's skirt, the intricate beading, the gauzy covering of her bodice. Looking at herself in the mirror, diamonds at her neck and an intricate tiara amongst her curls, she cannot deny that she looks beautiful. But it is ruined by the sadness in her eyes, the resignation.

Walking down the aisle to Sam, she almost stumbles when she sees Vision amongst the guards who have raised their swords in a salute over the aisle. Less than a day ago, he was on top of her, inside her, leaving a bruise now skillfully covered on her neck, whispering her name. Telling her he loved her, and she told him she loved him too. His eyes are shimmering with sunlit sadness when she walks past him, and she longs to stop the ceremony and turn into his arms, forget her duty and run away with the man she loves.

Sam smiles when she reaches him, lifts her veil and says, "You look beautiful." The smile she tries to give him slips away almost instantly from her lips, and he frowns. "Wanda? Are you alright?"

"Just nervous, Your Highness," she says, as the seamstress finishes arranging her skirts behind her and returns to her seat. The priest is talking to a guest in the distance, and the world is shimmering at the edges, and she can't stop feeling the weight of Vision's gaze on her back.

"I see," he says, his lips so close to her ear. "And I suppose your sadness has no connection to my favourite guard handing in his resignation to me this morning?"

She chokes on her surprise, hurriedly says, "My lord, I-"

"Oh, darling, I've known since you locked eyes with him on your first day here that I had you on borrowed time," he laughs, and she turns to look at him, her eyes wide. There are hundreds of people watching them, waiting for the wedding, and he's just smiling, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Frankly, I thought you'd tell me you didn't want this long before our day came. I always heard you mountain folk were brave."

"Sam-"

"I am not in the business of marrying people who have no desire to be with me," he says, and something like hope soars in her heart. "Wanda, if you want him, go be with him. I'll give him lands, make him a duke. You deserve to be happy."

"But-"

"Besides," he says, and smirks, "you think you are the only one capable of having passionate affairs with palace staff?"

She follows his shining gaze to the advisor who insisted on meeting her. James' eyes are as dark as Vision's, and everything makes sense in a thundering strike of lightning. "But you've spent so much money on this wedding-"

"I'm a king, darling, and I want to give money to the talented people of my kingdom," he says, and affectionately taps the end of her nose. "Don't waste this wedding dress, alright? You look too perfect in it to not marry someone you actually love."

Then he steps away from her, and loudly announces, "Distinguished guests, I'm afraid the wedding has been cancelled." An uproar of murmuring ensues, and Wanda claps a hand to her mouth to hide her smile. Sam is simply ridiculous, and he's still beaming. "Yes, turns out that we are both in love with other people and that would render marriage a little pointless. Still, feel free to enjoy the party. And please eat the cake, I think even my little sister would struggle to finish that alone."

"Oh, finally!" Lily shouts, and is out of her seat first. Wanda glances at James and sees him struggling not to smile, and then she finally dares to look at Vision.

Shock is slowly giving way to happiness on his face, and she walks back up the aisle with every eye on her, meaningfully brushing her fingers against his. Out in the hallway, she catches up to Lily and says, "A shame we aren't going to be sisters."

"He'll be much happier with Rhodey, and you'll be happier with Vision" she says, and Wanda almost chokes on nothing. "Please, neither of you are in any way subtle. And I heard the seamstress whispering that both of you had bruises on your necks. So cliché to sleep with your affair partner the night before your wedding."

"Will you unlace me?" Wanda asks. "And take my dress to the seamstress. I want it stored properly. I may have...further use for it." She tugs at her engagement ring and removes the diamond necklace, handing both to the grinning princess. "These are your family's. If I'm not going to be part of it, I shouldn't have them."

Lily puts the necklace around her own neck and deftly unplucks the laces of Wanda's dress, lifting the heavy fabric away from her and leaving her in only her petticoats and corset. And she kicks off her shoes and she runs out of the palace, descending the stairs in the side of the cliff and hoping Vision understood where to meet her.

He's waiting for her. The sun gilding his hair, his perfect face, and she's smiling and throwing herself down the last five steps into his arms, tangling her legs around him. "I love you," she gasps. "I love you so much. He knew all this time. I should've said something far sooner."

"That would have saved us a lot of heartache," he says ruefully, and his eyes are so bright. "But who is Sam in love with?"

"I think that is his secret to share with you," she says, and he's grinning into their kiss, lowering her for her toes to curl into the silken sand at the soft deftness of his lips.

He breaks the kiss and sinks slowly to one knee, and she's dressed in only her white corset and thin petticoats, on the run from the scene of her cancelled wedding, and the moment still couldn't be any more perfect. "I am not a king," he says softly. "Nor a prince. Not even a duke. But I offer you my sword, and my heart. All I have to offer you is my fealty, princess. But, if you'll have me-"

"Yes," she says, and leans down to kiss him so passionately they tumble into the sand. She surfaces laughing, smiling, and remarks, "That must be the shortest time anyone has ever spent not engaged."

"Perhaps not the way we should share our proposal story with our children," he says, pushing her sand-strewn hair back from her face, and the very thought of a future with him sings through her. She leans down to kiss him again, and when his lips find her neck she sighs his name.

By the time they resurface, there is sand covering her more than clothes, and his eyes are brighter than the sun sinking below the horizon.


End file.
